Been a Long Day
by Emmygirl822
Summary: Tess never really wanted to leave San Francisco, but then again, she wouldn't have a say. Now, all she wanted was some new ones that could empathize with her. Upon arriving, she never expects to encounter what she does, but of course, she doesn't have a say in that either.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, here we go. This idea was originally conceived as extra credit for my English teacher due to the fascination I developed with this book and movie. But I guess I figured it'd be fun to put it on here. It is supposed to take place before and during the book, but don't worry, my original character won't be everywhere with everybody. I'm playing this by ear, but I'm assuring you that Tess is not a Sue, and I'll work hard to make this story as enjoyable as possible.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****_The Outsiders_**** goes to the awesome S.E. Hinton (I really would love to publish a book at the age she did) and all "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying" references...well, you know, I don't know who wrote it, but it goes to them. Frank Loesser? I think. Anyway, I'm only owning Tess and Christina in this chapter. **

In my life, I never expected to leave my hometown.

However, I did. The beautiful town of San Francisco, California; I _did_ end up leaving.

I'm not in the kind of mood to tell my story of what life was like back there. Needless to say, I had a tight-knit group of friends; no matter what had happened, we were always there by each other's side, ready to listen and solve any problem that stood in their way. My favorite factor of life was having a friend, someone that I could lean on, someone I could turn to whenever I needed them.

There is no possible way to keep in touch with my friends except for writing letters, and that is time-consuming. I am most definitely not what one would consider an "indoor person." My hobbies include outdoors, outdoors, and even more outdoors. I'll sprint outside at any occasion; the sun's rays can be beating down on my face, or the rain can be permeating my clothes. So I suppose we'll end up forgetting about each other completely and I'll resort to finding some new friends. I'm going to be honest and admit that I'd like some boy-friends. By boy-friends, I mean friends that are boys, and not boyfriends... No, I do not want a boyfriend. It's disgusting. You might as well teach me how to barf whenever I want to.

I believe that I won't be so fortunate when it comes to climate in Oklahoma though. That's the state we moved to. It's the state that I am actually living in as of now. Our house is what I'd very much like to refer to as miniscule. When you first enter, you'll be in the den, and ahead of you is the kitchen, with the bedrooms to the right and the living room to the left. It seems quite complicated, but if you happened to be in my shoes, it wouldn't be.

I heave an exaggerated sigh as I stand up straight from slouching down on the couch. What's happened has happened; I am now in Tulsa with no hopes of ever speaking to my friends again. I'm alone, until I can find some that I would consider "perfect."

My ten-year-old sister, Christina, isn't excited being here either. Surprisingly, for siblings, we get along very well; if we're going to quarrel, it's not a big deal. It's something that happens, and then we just forget about it as if it never happened.

"School starts tomorrow," I remind myself, trailing down the hallway to my bedroom, which is completely bare with the exception of my new added bookshelf. It's not very large, but it's not too much of a problem for me, since I have just the right amount of literature to fit it. I have the strangest habit of reading my books repeatedly.

"But I don't want to go," I moan, dropping to the floor and sitting cross-legged. I'm doing it again... Talking to myself is another habit I don't think I'll ever grow out of.

"Yes you do, because you're going to find some great girls and they're gonna love you and..." The positive side of me begins ticking off the pros of what might happen at school tomorrow, but I've seen enough at my old school to know _nothing_ goes right for the new kids on their first day there.

For starters, we have, whom my friends and I dubbed, "The Queen Bees," and they were a group of girls who supposedly ruled our school, but my friends and I knew they didn't. Of course, they said they were popular and acted snobby and bratty and wore skirts so short they could've gotten expelled, but they didn't, because they had skipped classes every day to apply mascara and blush and whatnot. And maybe they'd gossip about the rest of us "losers" in the grade, and fawn over the Beatles.

Standing up to those girls was easier said than done; my friend, Kathleen, and I, we strode up to their table during lunch once. I was all ready to start getting all up in their faces about how churlish (oh, yes, my former English teacher would be proud) they were always acting towards everyone, but the leader just said, "Get out of here, losers," which didn't intimidate me or Kathleen, but before we could even make a witty comeback, guess who comes over and tells us to get back to our table?! Correct, the lunch monitor.

I don't get it! I'm fifteen. If I want to tell of a couple of girls off, I can, and I will.

But no, some adults don't seem to understand.

And this is where my parents come in.

Yes, my parents love me; but they have to work so often, I don't get in much quality time with them. When I do, I really treasure the memories. Being with my parents is something I don't take for granted, yet I do for plenty of other objects, people, ideas, etcetera. But why would I list those off in my mind when it could take years to do?

I don't notice that Christina is next to me. And by next to me, I mean right next to me, as in her shoulder is touching mine. "What're ya thinking about?"

I can't lie to her; not only is she my sister, she's my best friend. It may seem abnormal that we don't argue too often, but Christina is pretty mature for her age, and, like me, she wants to make something of herself one day. I'm not sure what I would want to be.

"School tomorrow. I can see it now...I'll be shunned by everyone." And I almost can; but my mind is feeling foggy.

Christina pulls me to my feet. "Chin up. You'll be perfectly fine tomorrow! Don't you ever think that you worry a little too much, Tess?"

My real name is Tessa. Tessa Emerson. But most refer to me as Tess. It's not a very common name, which I like, because then I don't have anyone for somebody to confuse me with. I bet I'm the only Tess in this town. However, I don't presume that matters, because name would never matter. Not in this town, I'm assuming.

"Maybe, but so do you," I point out to her, and she knows I am perfectly right. Christina's face whitens slightly and she nods quickly.

"Well, you know Mom and Dad said we could go out for awhile. It's seven. We don't have to go to bed 'till nine." Her composure regained, she brings this message forward with much more ease.

I think about this for a moment. I'd much rather be out there than cooped up in here, so I eagerly exit the room. Just as I'm about to welcome myself into the fresh night air, I notice Christina isn't there. "Hurry up, slow-poke!" I call teasingly. "We haven't got all night, ya know!"

"I hate yooou," she mock-whines, swaggering over to me. She has this trademark 'cool' walk that she usually likes to exhibit for others just to entertain them, or to make fun of others who think they are cool, but are, truly, idiots.

I throw the door open and skip out onto the porch step, taking in the coolness of the atmosphere around me. It's more than perfection, and, if I wasn't just a 'decent' singer, I would burst into song. Possibly one from from "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying."

I've heard that there's going to be a MOVIE based on the musical set for release next year, and I am very much looking forward to going to go see it!

"Well, been a long day, huh," Christina brings up; we start down the path to the sidewalk, and I giggle. I know what she's up to.

"Been a long day," I agree absent-mindedly, yet still I'm sure I have a clue as to what she's doing...

"Say...where are you having dinner tonight, Miss Emerson?"

Aha! I knew it now! With nothing better to do other than pacing slowly down the sidewalk, I decide to go along with this act.

"It depends." I smirk, but I pay attention to my surroundings. Who knows? It's possible this town could be dangerous in a sense. It wasn't that San Francisco just so happened to be very dangerous; in fact, whenever I would tend to hang out with Kathleen, we felt...protected. As if no one or nothing could ever harm us. And that's just another factor added to my mental list of why I hadn't wanted to move to Oklahoma.

Before I completely fade out of the real world, I add, "It depends on where I'm having dinner."  
"Okay, Tess, go, sing Smitty's part now!" Christina and I come to a halt at the edge of the sidewalk. I shake my head immediately; as I have said before, I am a decent singer. Christina praises me often; however, I don't believe I'm that good. I enjoy writing songs in my spare time, as it's almost like writing a diary. I get to vent out and release all of my feeling and no one can even complain that I am, since I'm doing so on a piece of paper.

"..._Well, here it is five PM._" I have no choice but to oblige, and I sing the beginning softly so only she, and no one else, can hear. My eyes dart to my hand so others will think I'm busy checking the time. "_The finish of a long day's work... And there they are both of them; the secretary-_"

"Tess." Christina, all of a sudden, panics and grabs my arm tightly. My singing fades until it is no longer but a mouthing of the word "clerk." "Stranger danger."

Rolling my eyes, I tug my arm right out of her firm grip. "Yes, yes, we don't know anyone in this town. I know that, Christina."

"No, I mean, look at that one!" she whispers gesticulating straight ahead. I follow her hand motions the street diagonal from ours, and, from what I see, I dive into the bushes behind us. It is on someone's property, but I'm just as panicked as Christina is, and, in fact, she follows suit.  
I can see it all happen through the slits of the leaves; a girl and a boy are up to nothing but shouting offensive names to others who pass them by on the street across from them.

No, they aren't saying it to everyone, but they are insulting a great amount of boys that pass by them, and a few girls who, I believed, beared resemblance to clowns with all of the makeup plastered over their faces. I could make out that one word they were putting out there for everybody to hear.

"What's a greaser, Tess?" Christina says out of the blue; I feel as if she's read my mind, because deep down, I am wondering the exact same thing.

I crawl over to the other side of her and peer through, eyeing the couple; they haul their drink at yet another male passing by, and he's avoiding eye contact with them. Fortunately, the drink misses him, and the girl who attempted the throw frowns. "Missed that jerk," I can hear her mutter. "I'll get him eventually."

"Baby, baby," the boy coos, pecking her on the cheek. "Don't worry about him... He's a greaser; they're all that way. You got someone better now."

She reddens, but she's not angry any longer. "Aw, I love you."

"We have to go," I quietly advise Christina.

"We-we're not greasers, are we Tess?" she timidly wants to know as we subtly crawl through the bushes until we're on the sidewalk again.

"I have no idea; I don't even know what they are." And that's all I can say, because it's true.

However, I have come to one conclusion: Inferring from what I've just seen...Tulsa _is_ dangerous.

**So, there you have it. Now, here's the thing: this chapter was kind of just an introduction to the story. It will get better, and the characters will be introduced eventually. No worries. Due to being swamped with schoolwork on weekdays, I won't be able to update very often. Or maybe I will. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.**

**Reviews. If you liked this story, go ahead and review! Also, if you think there's anyway I can improve this, go ahead and give me some constructive criticism. I'm okay with that. But if you DIDN'T like this story, then there's no need to flame me. Don't like it, then don't read it. It's really that simple.**

**Anyway, peace out! **


	2. Chapter 2

**It's been a while, right? I told you it would be. Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter (I didn't get many but it doesn't matter, one review is enough for me. :3) I certainly hope you enjoy this one! As we all know, I don't own ****_The Outsiders_****. Only one of the canon characters is introduced this chapter, but hey, better than nothing, right? (:  
**  
Last night, I had difficulty with falling asleep. Whether I scrunched myself up into a tight ball or stretched out completely, I never felt exactly comfortable. I continuously twisted and turned for about three hours, and once I fell asleep and began dreaming, I woke up yet again two hours later. I could no longer snooze after that.

Unanswered questions were floating around my mind, and with no answers, I could get no sleep. All they did was distract me.

I wake up the next morning to my blaring alarm clock. Half-asleep, my hand lingers around the area where my alarm clock stands and feels around for what ever could snooze it, but there seems to be nothing. My hand eventually ends up smashing against it and it falls to the floor, vibrating against the wood. I moan and lift one foot out of bed but the other doesn't seem to want to follow suit. No, I don't want to make it follow suit. To be honest, I would attempt to fall asleep yet again if I didn't have to go to school today. I hang upside-down and literally roll onto the floor, moaning. It's not as if my parents will care. I don't suppose they will. They'll only stick around for important occasions and that's all. At least, it seems that way. I'm sure they care, but still. They're sleeping now...

Finally, with my hands exerting pressure onto the the floor, I manage to successfully pull myself up to a sitting position in which my legs are pulled up right to my chest. I could do this all day. I think it'd be much better to stay locked in a room for the rest of my life than attend a new school. For one, what I saw yesterday pretty much convinced me that it was not safe to be out there! What are those greasers anyway?! They're probably dangerous. I bet they are. Did those rich-looking kids hold something against those 'greasers?'

Christina hasn't waken up yet. The silence in the house is a little too eerie. There's nothing more I can do to prepare myself for the impending, awful first day at a new school, where I know nobody, and I will be ignored. I am so excited... Hopefully you caught that.

I can only inch my body down the hallway, which only takes a minute or so, and even though I arrive in the kitchen with a small giggle over what I had just done, I still don't feel active enough to even stand up. I'm that exhausted.

I have enough strength to sharply kick the refrigerator, shaking it and causing the box of Apple Jacks to fall right off the edge. I sure am fortunate the box has no scratch or crack on it. I'm tempted to just eat out of the bag inside of the cardboard box but that'd be much too rude. Anyway, I have to change into my outfit for the first day.

My new high school has a dress code, and I honestly think that it's very dumb. Oh yes, my outfit is going to be very fancy today. It takes me the same amount of time it takes to return to my room which is fuller than yesterday. Besides me bed and the bookshelf, there is also a small nightstand where my alarm clock formerly stood, as well as a simple lamp and a medium-sized wardrobe. My room is simple in general, and I don't buy many clothes. I'm not the shopping type.

I force a white blouse over my head and tug on a very tight skirt, as well as stockings, and slip on matching socks and brown loafers. All of this dressing has me finally able to stand, but also makes me squirm uncomfortably. I can't even look at my attire in the mirror. I hate it.

It's not very necessary to tell about the rest of my morning, except that you should know I was still very intrigued by what I had witnessed yesterday. I had shoveled spoonfuls of Apple Jacks into my mouth from a plastic bag on the seemingly monotonous walk to school.

I knew I was screwed from the moment I pushed open the front door of the school when I was obviously supposed to pull it, as the handle indicated. It's not as if anyone else hasn't made that mistake before but doing something as idiotic as that on your first day in a new environment where you attempt to place good impressions upon others proves to your new-found peers that, well, you're an imbecile. At least that is in my opinion.

The lobby is literally packed. There isn't an inch of the floor that isn't covered, and kids of ages fourteen to seventeen are converging from almost everywhere. I can barely understand what anyone is saying. All of those conversations blend in together so well, it just sounds like screaming to me, and I can barely hear myself think!

So I decide on doing the only thing I feel as if I can do at the moment: I run down a random hallway. Keep in mind here, I was one of the slowest runners at my old school, and I said one of them so there's no need to take pity on me.

I reach the end and almost fall onto the last stair. By now I'm short of breath so that break is well-needed. And then the bell rings, loudly, so loud my ears ring as well, and kids are racing throughout the hallways to make it to their lockers. I get to my feet and follow suit, successfully locating mine in a matter of five minutes.

The first half of the day entails me walking alone to every class, arriving on time, sitting somewhere in the front row alone, and listening to teachers introduce me to everyone else to them all saying "Hello..." Things become especially interesting when I enter the doorway of the Biology classroom, however.

"All right, class," the teacher, Mrs. Kern, begins when the door was slammed shut, a perfect blockade for any background noise from the hallway trying to worm its way in. "We have a new student today."

Please let it be some other kid, I will with my thoughts. PLEASE.

I'll never ever depend on my thoughts because after that she adds, "Her name's Tessa. Tessa Emerson."

I take this as my cue to silently make my way to the front of the classroom and I do so. When the entire class is scanning me, I manage to say "Pleaseee call me Tess." They nod absent-mindedly except for one particular student, who happens to be a boy. He's not giving me the once-over, but I am to him. His hair is brown, almost with an auburn tint to it (much darker than mine; my hair is an awkward shade of strawberry-blonde, I believe), and slightly messy. I'm unable to figure out the shade of his eyes from where I stand but they almost look gray to me. And this boy, well, he might as well be in his own little world, his facial expression seeming quite far away. If only I had guts, I would attempt to snap him out of it and converse with him but what if he'd hate me? No, no, I must impress others first.

I return to my seat, indifferently, and stare down at the floor, hoping, just maybe, it will suck me in and then I'll find myself at home. This place is the last place I want to be. If only I was home sleeping again.

My eyes are still on the teacher but my mind drifts off, just like that boy's, just to interrogate no one in particular about almost everything that's occurred lately. More questions sprout off of old ones and the next thing I know, one girl has caught my attention, since she's waving her hand right in front of my face. Mrs. Kern has allocated worksheets throughout the room and broken everyone into groups of two. I'm guessing she put this girl with me.

"Ah, hi," I greet her, blinking wildly. Some first impression I'm making.

"Hi, I'm Hayley. I was wondering why you were staring at the greaser?" She's jumped straight to the point immediately. Some people possess those attributes...

"The greaser?" I reply. "What's a greaser? Who's the greaser?"

Hayley takes my arm and steers me in the direction of the interesting boy I had taken notice of before. I gasp lightly and whirl back to face her. "Um, oh, well, I have no clue."

"His name's Ponyboy," Hayley continues, and if she has realized I was stammering, well, she sure doesn't say anything, "and he's a greaser. So..."

"What kinda name is Ponyboy?" I blurt quietly, and my face burns.

"It's a name," Hayley says as she sits down at the desk behind me. "And greasers? Tess, you wouldn't wanna associate yourself with them. They're troublemakers. They break rules everywhere and they swear and rob stores. I wouldn't go near that boy either. Probably not a good way to start off, you know?"

"...Oh, okay." I shrug a little too quickly for my taste and locate a pencil in my binder. "So, um, can you tell me what unit we're on?"

**The end of the second chapter! If you ever wonder, no, Tess doesn't have some sob story with her parents, everything is fine between them. They have a strong relationship but have to work often.**

Anyway, that's it. Once again, constructive criticism if you must. I get apprehensive about posting my works on here, admittedly. ./. 


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